


Enchanters' Inheritance

by Aeriel



Category: The Chronicles of Chrestomanci - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Family Bonding, Family Issues, Gen, Missing Scene, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:18:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2824880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeriel/pseuds/Aeriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing that bothered Cat more than talking about Gwendolen was when everyone acted as though she'd never existed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enchanters' Inheritance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azurish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azurish/gifts).



> Set in the fairly immediate aftermath of _Charmed Life_ , just before _Magicians of Caprona_ and _Stealer of Souls_. I hope this is in the realm of the 'sort of emotional h/c for Cat' that you were looking for, azurish!
> 
> Thanks again to my wonderful beta.

The box was encrusted with jewels and edged with filigree. It reminded Cat of the sort of jewelry boxes Gwendolen (and later Janet) liked to look at in shops.  
  
"Can you open it?"  
  
Cat considered the problem. There were no locks or clasps or physical restraints keeping the box closed. Nevertheless, it _felt_ stubborn, and sure enough when he tried to lift the lid it wouldn't budge.  
  
"No," he said finally. "Who does it belong to?"  
  
Chrestomanci sighed. "An evil enchanter from series five. It's probably got illegal magic supplies in it, but even I can't figure out the trick to it."  
  
"So why did you ask me?" Cat said, puzzled. "I don't know anything about undoing enchantments."  
  
"You come at things from an unusual angle, Cat. Your style is different from mine, which is different from Julia's, which is different from Millie's and so on. It's very possible the enchanter thought the way you did."  
  
This did nothing to make Cat feel better. "You think I have the mind of an evil enchanter?"  
  
"I think nothing of the sort. And if I did, I'd hardly be training you as my successor, would I?"  
  
"I guess not." He wondered if he was free to go now.  
  
Chrestomanci frowned. "You don't sound particularly convinced. I suppose I can't blame you. Your sister did have a creatively oppositional personality."  
  
Cat never knew how people expected him to react when they mentioned Gwendolen. It always made him feel sick to his stomach, like a brief jolt of excitement that turned to misery.  
  
But in a way, he was glad when they did, because the only thing that was worse than talking about Gwendolen was acting like she'd never existed, which most of the Castle seemed utterly content to do.  
  
"I imagine you're angry that she took advantage of your trust, and perhaps worried about where that anger might go." Chrestomanci pulled out a chair and sat down. He looked, to Cat's alarm, far older than usual with the candlelight making the few lines on his face look deeper and more prominent.  
  
"It's not that." Cat hesitated. He was angry, sometimes, but the anger was far from the worst part. "It's that I thought she loved me and she didn't, really."  
  
He'd always thought that everyone loved their family, because he loved his mother and father and Gwendolen, and that was the way it was supposed to be, had to be for everyone. But Gwendolen had only ever been thinking of herself. Even when their parents had gone, and they had nothing but each other, she still hadn't cared about what happened to Cat so long as she had his magic. Cat had loved Gwendolen and the magic because he never dreamed of one without the other.  
  
He couldn't think where it had gone wrong.  
  
Chrestomanci sighed. "I suppose no one's ever told you about my Uncle Rafe. Spelt R-A-L-P-H."  
  
"Was he another Chant?" Cat knew so little about his family that he hadn't known he was related to Chrestomanci until just before he came to live at the Castle. Not that he particularly cared, but he knew he was supposed to, so he tried to appear interested.  
  
"No, an Argent. My mother's brother." The candle guttered, and Chrestomanci made an irritated motion, causing the flame to still. "He used me much in the way that your sister used you, to further his own ends. I didn't realize until I was accused of consciously aiding his criminal activities. It was hard realizing Uncle Ralph had never been the person I wanted him to be, but it was harder still to forgive myself for being deceived."  
  
This was a horrifying revelation to Cat. To think that Chrestomanci, who had stubbornly held his own against Gwendolen and always did whatever he wanted to do, was capable of being manipulated! If Chrestomanci couldn't tell the good from the bad, what chance did anyone else have? "How did you learn who could be trusted?"  
  
"Trial and error, like everyone else. There's no easy answer, I'm afraid." Chrestomanci glanced at the windows, dark but for the stars. "That's enough for tonight, I think. You still have a little time to play with the other children before supper."  
  
Cat morosely dragged himself out of the room and down the stairs. Sometimes he worried that he was at the Castle on a more or less probationary period. But everyone was so nice these days that he knew it probably wasn't the case. What made them sure he wasn't going to turn out like Gwendolen? He'd thought some of the things she did were funny, after all.  
  
Maybe the box Chrestomanci had shown him belonged to someone who thought like Gwendolen.  
  
When Cat reached the playroom, he could tell before entering that Roger, Julia and Janet were playing charades again.  
  
"King Solomon's Mines?" Janet said.  
  
Julia made an exasperated face, and Roger said, with about as much patience as he was capable of, "That doesn't exist here."  
  
Janet groaned and fell back onto the floor. "Oh, I give up!"  
  
"King of Warlocks!" Julia snarled, and sat down so violently that her dress puffed up around her.  
  
"It's no fun if you keep picking books I haven't read."  
  
"How am I supposed to know which books you've read and which you haven't?"  
  
"Let's play something else," Cat said quickly, since the last thing he felt like was watching Janet and Julia having a row over something stupid.  
  
"Hmph!" said Julia.

Roger added, "Yes, let's. Toy soldiers?"  
  
"Then I can't play," Janet reminded them. "No magic, no living soldiers, and then you might as well play chess, which you can't do with four people."  
  
The restriction on magical games proved difficult. It wasn't that they hadn't successfully played with Janet before, but Janet was impatiently vetoing all the usual suggestions (levitation games, invisible games, changing socks into befuddled animals) and kept saying that they should come up with something new.  
  
"Well, why don't you think of something?" Julia snapped, before Cat could.  
  
"I'm no good at that sort of thing," Janet said. "Maybe we could go exploring?"  
  
"It's almost dinner time, we don't want to get lost!"  
  
For a moment, Cat thought it might be easier if Janet did get lost. And then he wondered if this was how Gwendolen used to feel about him, and felt terrible.  
  
"Look, let's just play cards," he said, and Roger looked grateful, as Julia was beginning to reach for her handkerchief. "You know Black Maria, don't you, Janet?"  
  
Julia won the first game, which mollified her somewhat. Cat suspected Roger had kept his bad cards and passed her decent ones, but he didn't really mind.  
  
By the time they were called down to dinner, Cat was feeling positively content. This lasted well into the meal, over which Millie proposed various summer activities, to a greatly enthusiastic audience.  
  
"The water's going to be very nice this month, I hear," Millie was saying, "so perhaps we could go boating? I've never been."  
  
The gravy didn't taste nearly as good after that.  
  
"I don't think that would be the best idea, love," Chrestomanci said mildly.  
  
Millie saw Cat and blanched. "Oh! I don't know what I was thinking. Of course not!"  
  
"Why?" Janet asked. "I think it sounds delightful. I was supposed to go once but I had measles and we all stayed home."  
  
Janet's parents, Cat recalled, were still alive.  
  
Julia said loudly, "Do shut up, Janet."  
  
"Julia, that was rude," Millie said sternly. "But wouldn't you rather swim, Janet? Or play games?"  
  
The subject passed, and conversation grew light again, but Cat felt Chrestomanci watching him and couldn't bring himself to join in.  
  
"Why the long face, Eeyore?" Janet asked, after dinner. "You've been looking down in the mouth since dessert, and I know you haven't got unresolved issues with rice pudding."  
  
Cat shrugged, because he didn't really want to talk about it. "I died on a boating trip."  
  
"Well, why didn't somebody tell me that?" Janet groaned. "And there I was putting my foot in it. I should have realized Millie never changes gears like that unless she's avoiding hurting somebody. Can you forgive me?"  
  
Cat nodded. He really hadn't been upset with Janet to begin with.  
  
Unfortunately, Janet had begun to be able to read Cat's moods. "I sense that that isn't all there is to this mood. What else is the matter?"  
  
"It's nothing really." If it had been anyone but Janet, Cat might have left it at that. But she had on that prodding look, and so he admitted, "I was just thinking how I wished I'd grown up with you instead of Gwendolen."  
  
There was a time when even the thought would have made Cat feel a traitor. But now it pleased him when Janet shook her head and said, "I could wring that dear girl's neck, I really could. Provided she hadn't any magic at the moment." When Cat smiled faintly, she added, "You know, maybe that was the trouble in the first place. If I had magic when I was younger, maybe I would have gone to the bad too."  
  
"Or maybe it was me," Cat said glumly. "Maybe if you had a younger brother you would have resented him. She might have been better off without me."  
  
"You bite your tongue!" Janet exclaimed. "Now she's my double, and I should think I have a better idea of the way she thinks than you do, even if you did live with her for most of your life. Doctor Janet's analysis from the few terrifying moments spent in her presence says power mad narcissist. For whatever reason, she grew up thinking she was Grand Poobah, and yours truly may have many faults but total egomania is not one of them. And I can't believe that's your fault in the least."  
  
"It is my fault that you can't go back to your own world though," Cat pointed out. He'd done it to get back at Gwendolen, and he'd probably do it again, but it wasn't fair to Janet.  
  
Janet sighed. "I do miss my parents, sometimes, but then I remember they don't even know I'm gone, and at least I know they're alive somewhere and happy with my Dear Replacement. And it's not so bad here. I don't mind it, because I got to know you, Cat, and live a grand adventure. Neither would have happened if it weren't for Gwendolen, which is the only reason I'm grateful for her awfulness."  
  
Cat felt a little better. "A grand adventure?"

"The grandest," Janet assured him. "Speaking of adventure, what have you been learning up with you-know-who?"

There was good reason to be slightly cautious about using Chrestomanci's name in private conversation, but Cat always felt a bit silly dancing around it, and tended not to bother. "Chrestomanci's got a box he can't open that used to belong to an evil enchanter."  
  
"Has he tried letting the dragon at it?" inquired Janet.  
  
"I don't think so." Cat frowned. "Don't you think that would melt whatever's inside?"  
  
"Aren't dragons hoarders? You'd think they'd have some way of melting locks without ruining the treasure. Although, I suppose, this is only a baby dragon, he might not have anyone to teach him properly." Janet sighed. "What do you think, Cat? Despite your nickname, you seem remarkably uncurious about this mystery."  
  
"There isn't a lock," Cat said, but he wasn't really listening anymore. He felt he shouldn't put too much thought into the box. He didn't want to think the same way as an evil enchanter. "It's probably just dragon's blood or something illegal inside."  
  
"Oh, well. What dressing gown was he wearing? Anything I haven't seen?"  
  
"I don't know which ones you've seen," Cat pointed out. "But it was the emerald one with white flowers on it."  
  
"Oh pooh, I have seen that one. It's oddly disappointing to think his wardrobe is finite, don't you think? I hope Millie buys him ten new outrageous ones for Christmas, with matching slippers."  
  
"He's probably better off without the slippers, in case he gets summoned to a swamp or somewhere he needs real shoes," Cat said, though the idea of Chrestomanci in one of his colorful silken dressing gowns standing knee deep in mud, no doubt thoroughly irritated, was an amusing one.  
  
After they split up, Cat washed up and got into his pajamas but couldn't seem to relax and go to sleep. He wasn't sure he believed Chrestomanci had only asked him about the box for an alternate perspective. It might have been some sort of test.  
  
Then again, Chrestomanci hadn't had to admit that he'd been fooled by someone he loved as a child. Cat rather thought that if he were Chrestomanci, he would want to pretend to be utterly invulnerable.  
  
Chrestomanci had also admitted he was stumped by the box. Clearly he was no longer trying to impress Cat, which was a bit alarming since Chrestomanci tended to try to impress everyone.  
  
Cat turned it over in his head again and again, trying to figure out what the box could be and why it was important enough to ask a relative novice.  
  
Cat woke earlier than usual, after bad dreams. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts, so he washed and dressed and went down to the Castle grounds.  
  
Now that he understood how Chrestomanci's garden worked, Cat was permitted to walk there on his own. He wasn't supposed to try and cross into other worlds just yet, of course, but he had absolutely no desire to. He didn't want to end up stranded like Janet, and he definitely didn't want to find himself in Gwendolen's world.  
  
He walked until he reached early spring, full of narcissus and bluebells, and flowering cherry trees. It was quiet, but not silent, with the warm breeze and the rustling of the leaves and flowers. Cat wasn't entirely certain where he was going, but he felt much calmer here than he had in his room.  
  
Cat found Fiddle pawing at the wisteria which grew on some of the ruins at midsummer. "You shouldn't do that. The seeds are poisonous."  
  
Fiddle gave him a lofty look as if to say that he knew that perfectly well, and was just testing Cat. Cat wasn't even sure how he'd remembered it, but it seemed to make sense now he'd said it. "I don't see why you need to eat at all," he said, crouching down in the grass. "You're more violin than animal."  
  
The cat decided he no longer wanted to acknowledge Cat, and trotted off in the direction of the tropical gardens. Cat watched him go, tufts of dandelion buoyed into the air by Fiddle's tail.  
  
Cat knew that one of his lives was attached to Fiddle, but he had never really understood how it had happened. The arrangement suited them both well enough, in any case, which was his one comfort whenever he tried to look at it from the angle of magical theory and got a headache.  
  
Maybe that was the trouble with the box. It was probably something that looked like something else, and wasn't. Maybe it wasn't possible to open the box, because it wasn't really a box.  
  
"Oh, goodness, there you are! I knew you couldn't have gone far." It was Millie, bustling towards him with a harried look about her. Cat realized with a guilty twinge that he must have missed breakfast. "Weren't you hungry, dear?"  
  
"Not really," Cat said, though his stomach was beginning to feel noticeably empty. "Have you been looking very long?"  
  
"Oh, it's been no trouble," Millie said soothingly. "Once the others realized you weren't in your rooms or downstairs, there were really only so many places you could be without leaving the Castle altogether "  
  
Cat knew they had all been worried and was ashamed of himself. He tried to think of some way to make it up to Millie, at least, while they walked backwards through the seasons, but by the time they had gotten out to the regular grounds all he had managed was a half-hearted offer to help her with carrying things the next time she went shopping in town.  
  
"That's terribly sweet of you, dear, but I'm afraid I don't need any help. Look, there's Chrestomanci and the children. Julia and Janet must have made up, she's taking the grass stains out of Janet's white dress. They'll spot us in a moment."  
  
Cat rather suspected that Chrestomanci already knew they were there but was feigning innocence. He realized with another guilty squirm that he really had no idea what Millie did around the house when he wasn't looking, besides the vague notion that she often helped Chrestomanci with his work. His own mother had planned outings and meals and gone shopping with them for clothes and things, but they'd never had servants, and his father hadn't been Chrestomanci.  
  
Janet sprang up at once, and flung herself at Cat. "You're all right! I'm so glad, I thought you'd gone and abandoned me. And Julia's been telling me your parents died on that boat too, and I'm so mortified, I could kick myself! You didn't really try to go over to one of the other worlds, did you?"  
  
"I just went for a walk," Cat said, trying not to be cross with her, which was rather difficult when she was practically hanging off him. "I'm not planning on going anywhere."  
  
"It may not actually be possible to go anywhere weighed down as you are," observed Chrestomanci.  
  
"It isn't your fault, Janet," Millie said gently.  
  
Janet shook her head, though she pulled enough away that Cat no longer was supporting her weight. "It is my fault. I should have--"  
  
"It isn't your fault," Cat cut in, "because it can't be anyone's fault, because all I did was go for a walk before breakfast!" He was almost surprised by how annoyed he was. "Isn't that allowed?"  
  
"Of course it is," Millie said immediately.  
  
"It helps if you actually come back," Roger said. "But no hard feelings."  
  
"Cat," said Chrestomanci, "I think that once you have a proper meal we should have a talk in my study."  
  
Cat nodded sulkily. He would almost rather have gotten it over with immediately, but he didn't quite dare say so.  
  
He did feel much less crabby after the somewhat slapdash tray of food that was sent to his rooms. Whether it was just the food (which was only things he liked to eat) or being able to eat it by himself without anyone fussing over him, Cat wasn't sure, but he was glad for it.  
  
Though Cat briefly wondered if this was the sort of thing that meant you were destined to be an evil enchanter. Gwendolen had never been good with other children their age.

Perhaps he should have been more anxious about being singled out by Chrestomanci, but Cat was fairly confident he hadn't done anything wrong and so could not be punished. He'd likely get a scolding for his attitude, and maybe have to look at the box again. He was actually interested in looking at the box now he'd had time to consider it.

When Cat entered the study, Chrestomanci was lounging on the sofa, wearing a dressing gown that seemed to be depicting a particularly striking sunset, and sorting through a pile of letters. That did make Cat nervous-- when they were going to have normal lessons, Chrestomanci usually sat at his desk or stood up.

"Cat," Chrestomanci said, without looking up from his letters, "I can't help but think I've gone about this entirely the wrong way."

Cat had no idea what he was talking about. "I think I have an idea about the box," he said, hoping that it was related.

"I am pleased to hear it. However, my concerns are of a more personal nature."

"Oh." Filled with dread, Cat stood awkwardly by the desk while Chrestomanci set aside the letters and got up.

"Are you unhappy here?"

Of all the prying questions Cat had envisioned, this was not the one he'd expected. "No," he said, and was surprised to realize that it was true.

Chrestomanci smiled. "Good. But you don't really trust us."

Cat knew it wasn't polite to say so, but he also worried that Chrestomanci would know if he lied, and the longer he tried to think of what to do, the more whatever he said was going to sound like a lie.

Fortunately, his silence was apparently an acceptable answer. "That's perfectly understandable. We are, after all, still relative strangers to you, and I imagine you were not raised to put your faith in strangers."

Cat didn't think that was entirely fair. "I don't think of you as a stranger. Or Roger, or Julia, or Millie. Or Michael Saunders, really. And Janet's strange, but she isn't exactly a stranger." After all, she was almost his family. But the words stuck in his throat, because even though Janet would do things that made her look like Gwendolen, or sound like Gwendolen, or even come to a conclusion in a very Gwendolen way of thinking, she wasn't Gwendolen at all.

"Ah," said Chrestomanci, and Cat found himself worrying that he could read minds. "But there's a world of difference in that 'not exactly'. You loved your sister very much, didn't you?"

"I," Cat began, and then found to his frustration that he couldn't go on, because if he did he knew he would cry. He couldn't bring himself to look at Chrestomanci.

As a result, he was taken completely by surprise when a warm hand squeezed his shoulder. "It is a terrible thing to be failed by the ones that we love best. I won't think any less of you for crying, but if you like I can turn the other way and pretend I didn't see anything."

Cat knew it wasn't grown up at all, and that he really should have just scrubbed his tears away and carried on, but all he could think of was how he'd always hung onto Gwendolen whenever anything went wrong, and how she never put her arms around him, not even when they were drowning, really. And now Janet had been clinging to Cat the same way, and he had been pushing her away, just as Gwendolen would have done.  He let out something between a sob and a hiccup, and looked up at Chrestomanci.

 "I won't tell the other children if you won't." And all at once Cat was enveloped in red-orange-violet silk and surprisingly strong arms, which was all the excuse he needed to bury his face in Chrestomanci's shoulder and bawl.

Afterwards, Cat washed his face and looked with alarm on the fabric he'd thoughtlessly wiped his nose on.

"No harm done," Chrestomanci said reassuringly. In a fluid motion, the shoulder of the dressing gown was dry and seemingly good as new. "That's one of the spells you learn by heart the fastest when you have two children with upset stomachs. My wardrobe wouldn't have survived otherwise."

Cat laughed, and felt a little less vulnerable.

"Now, let me find that box, and we'll see about your idea, shall we?"

Nothing about the box had changed since Cat had looked at it last night, and yet he was certain now that it was pretending to be something it wasn't. "It isn't really a box. That's why it won't open. It might not even have anything inside it."

Chrestomanci raised his eyebrows, but didn't laugh at him or say he was being ridiculous. "Can you turn it back into what it originally was?"

Cat picked up the box with two hands, and concentrated. It was still stubborn, but it didn't want to be a box, not really, even if it was a bit proud of how pretty it looked. Cat reassured it that it did look very pretty, but he knew it was really much more beautiful, and wouldn't it like everyone to see?

There was a single scarlet feather in Cat's hands.

"There we are," Chrestomanci said, sounding very pleased. "I thought it might be something like that, though it didn't occur to me that the box itself was the treasure. That's the feather of a very powerful, very rare bird, and just the sort of thing one would want to keep out of the wrong hands. May I see it, Cat?"

Cat handed it to him, almost as proud as the feather itself had been. "It's warm. I wasn't expecting that. Does it belong to a phoenix?" He had paid attention to some of his lessons.

Chrestomanci handled the feather with care. "It might. Phoenix feathers cost a pretty sum on the black market. But they don't come nearly as dear as the feather of a firebird, and considering there's only the one, I suspect our enchanter had good reason to believe that was what this was. Firebirds grant wishes, you see."

The feather glinted in the sunlight. Cat stared at it. "Wishes?"

"Almost any wish a person could imagine." Chrestomanci's gaze was vague, and Cat was keenly aware of what that meant. "What would you wish for, Cat?"

There were so many things. But there was no guaranteeing they would come out like Cat might hope for. And even if they did, well... Cat thought of himself, walking off a boat with his parents behind him, clutching the hand of a beatifically smiling Gwendolen. It would still all go wrong, somehow, wouldn't it? It might even go worse.

Chrestomanci was waiting for his answer, but not impatiently, Cat thought. And downstairs Julia was might be levitating Janet and Roger (just for a moment, just so Chrestomanci might not notice), and Michael Saunders was preparing their history lessons, and Millie might be talking with Jason or Euphemia or patiently listening to Bernard going on about stocks and shares, and there was the garden and the Castle itself, vast and mysterious.

"I don't think I would," Cat said, finally. "I don't mind things the way they are."

Chrestomanci smiled. "The wisest choice, and one not many would make. You're learning well."

Knowing that it was an answer that Gwendolen would never, ever have given only made Cat grin harder.


End file.
